


Avenging Angel

by Katiebabyangel



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2014-10-12
Packaged: 2018-02-18 07:03:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2339453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katiebabyangel/pseuds/Katiebabyangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawkeye and the Black Widow bring in a young assassin after an assassination attempt on Hawkeye's life goes awry. Who is the young assassin and how does she let them know when she isn't even sure herself? Can she find friends in the Avengers? And, most of all, can she help save SHIELD's soul? Not only that, but who the hell is Bucky? Set after CA:TWS, Romance in later chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Conundrum

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own anything accept Katerina/Katya.  
> Also, TRIGGER WARNING. Suicidal themes in the beginning. Also, there will be blood and gore. This is a story about assassins. Let’s not be ridiculous and think it’s gonna be all rainbows and butterflies. That said, I’ll try to warn if it gets too graphic. This first part is going to be a little graphic, but not too bad.  
> I’m trying to keep the characters MCU version, but there will be a little of the Comics’ background later. I can’t guarantee success in my character depiction and let me know what you think, if you think they’re in character enough or not. I want to hear from everyone!  
> Thanks for reading, here it is:

She wasn’t sure what to do about the man in front of her. He was a conundrum, something she’d never come across on a case before. There they were, her with a gun pointed at his forehead and him with an arrow pointed at her chest, both of them unwavering, and he had yet to release. He could probably impale her before she’d get a shot off, but he still hadn’t let go, instead choosing to stare at her with those storm grey eyes, seeming unconcerned with their current predicament.  
She wasn’t exactly sure what to do either. He had shown remarkable agility and speed, if the blood still slipping down the side of her face was any indication. Of course, she’d gotten in a few good hits as well, but that was to be expected. She had seen him kill and had wondered if his hand-to-hand was as good as his arrow work and now she had her answer. It was a close one. In fact, she had been pleasantly surprised when he had managed to keep up with her. Not many people could fight her and live to tell the tale. Most didn’t even have the endurance to make it last, which was always a disappointment. This man, however, had exceeded expectations.  
“You’re good.” The slight smile on the man’s face was enough to convince Katerina that he was completely insane, not that it mattered much. If she could just convince herself to pull the trigger, he would be dead and she wouldn’t have to worry about him anymore. Actually pulling the trigger was harder than she had thought it would be, especially considering she could see just a small amount of fear in those storm grey eyes. Enough to convince her he wasn’t the stone cold killer they made him out to be. Enough to convince her that maybe killing him wasn’t the best idea in the world, no matter the consequences that would befall her if she let him walk away.  
“So are you, it seems.” She allowed, deciding that having a conversation wasn’t the worst idea in the world. If anything, it would allow her time to think about what she was going to do, allow her to figure out what he was after in not killing her. After all, she had seen him kill hundreds of people without batting an eyelash, his partner was the same way. However, when it came to one silly little Russian girl, he couldn’t seem to make himself release the arrow that would end her life. Even she had to admit that she would have killed the person opposing her by then should they have hesitated, even if they were only her own age.  
“Yeah, well, I’ve had years of training.” He said it proudly, like that was something to be proud of and Katerina stared at him for a moment before she realized he didn’t think she was trained. He thought she was still but a child when she had more experiences of the world that he could possibly imagine.  
“I have years of training as well.” She answered honestly. His eyes clouded for a second and he seemed to be thinking hard, taking in her appearance and age as well as her weapons expertise and her skill at hand-to-hand.  
“You fight like someone I know. Are you, by any chance, Russian?” He asked, squinting a little at her features. A small shrug of her supporting arm was all the answer he got. Because she honestly didn’t know. She had been raised in Russia among the other Post Room candidates, but there was no saying where she was originally from, though, from the pale blonde of her hair to the almost icy blue of her eyes, she would say she was most likely Northern European. Maybe American even. But she would never know because there were no records, nowhere to look. She was basically without a past. “You’re a lot like her, actually.”  
“The Black Widow and I have much in common.” She answered clearly. That was the first time she noticed killing intent in his eyes and she wondered why. She had not threatened his partner, if they could be called that. She had watched them for months, waiting for a time to strike. The Black Widow was not assigned to her, was not assigned to anyone. She was to be left alone. So Katerina had waited and observed for almost a year, finding their routines and rituals amusing and slightly nostalgic.  
She was not surprised that he had imagined a slight against his Widow. They had a sort of relationship most wouldn’t understand, without kissing or sex but totally reliant on one another. It was like they were lovers without the physical aspect and he was unerringly protective of her as she was of him. Katerina had yearned for that sort of relationship with someone while watching them and maybe that was why she had yet to pull the trigger, had yet to end his life. Because she knew how important he was to someone. And, thinking back, she could remember his kindness, all the attributes the file didn’t specify. He could lie, but chose instead to be unerringly honest when given the opportunity. She had never understood them, him, but now, she wondered what it would be like to live like the Black Widow. Free of the Rooms, able to choose her own assignments, able to make connections with people and not have it be a weakness.  
“You know Natasha?” The name she had chosen for herself was quite personal in Russian culture, used as a nickname for Natalia only in the closest of settings. How she could handle being called that by people who barely knew her was beyond Katerina, but at least she had a name to call her own when Katerina only had a name given to her, just like the numbers marked into her skin.  
“I have been hunting you for some time, Agent Barton.” Was her only answer. His eyes narrowed and she watched him do the calculations, trying to figure out when she had started, when she had been there that they didn’t know about. She let him try and figure it out and realized when he came to a day, one that was probably about a week off when she had actually first found them.  
The day the Black Widow had woken him up and made him grab his go bag in the middle of the night, two forty three in the morning to be exact. They’d left three minutes later and she had driven like a bat out of hell, trying to lose Katerina before switching cars and driving to a SHIELD base where she had listed their occupancy as compromised. A SHIELD retrieval team had been sent to the location the next day to wipe out evidence of their existence before they had moved on again.  
“A week before.” She answered his unspoken thought, watching as shock registered on his face.  
“That was almost a year ago.” He reminded her, as if she didn’t know. Sure, she’d had her fair share of other assignments during that time, but most of her life the last year had been dedicated to killing Clinton Francis Barton.  
“Yes, it was. A year ago next Tuesday.” She answered stoically, gauging his reaction. She wasn’t prepared for him starting to chuckle.  
“So the times Nat finally calmed down?”  
“I assume I was on other missions.” She answered honestly, watching him. He laughed in earnest now, his eyes crinkling and his chest heaving. His bow didn’t waver, the arrow pointing at her heart not moving even a millimeter, but he was obviously enjoying himself. She waited until he calmed a little, her head unconsciously tilted to the right.  
“She’s going to be pissed when she figures it out.” He informed her and she just nodded slightly in agreement, unsure how to respond. Her last acknowledgement of his partner had ended in his anger, she wasn’t sure why he found it so funny now. Except that she understood more of their relationship than he realized. She knew that the Black Widow prided herself on her skills and finding out that a nineteen year old assassin had one upped her probably wouldn’t tickle her like it did Hawkeye. He didn’t seem even a little chastised that Katerina had managed to find him so easily. In fact, he didn’t look too upset at all.  
The night noises around them had picked up again after their fight, something scavenging in the garbage cans to their right. The blaring sound of a TV disrupted the night from the building to their left and cars honked in the distance. The cool air was enough to have Katerina’s fingers going numb and her breath making clouds in the air in front of her. Hawkeye didn’t seem bothered by the cold, but Katerina knew he wasn’t raised in such temperatures like she was. He had to be cold, but he wasn’t shivering, gave no sign he noticed the lowered temperature.  
“So, we’re at an impasse.” Hawkeye offered casually. Katerina’s eyes snapped to his and she tried to read the emotion there, trying to figure out what he was going to do about it. She figured that, if he was going to shoot her, he would have done it by then. She knew him well enough to know that he didn’t draw out his executions. He wasn’t a cruel man.  
“I suppose we are.” She agreed cautiously.  
“You know, it doesn’t have to be this way.” He motioned to their weapons and Katerina wondered what he meant for a moment. Her mission was to kill him. That was the beginning and end of everything. Either he died here or she did and she wasn’t about to let the Room win, not when she was so close. However, that also meant killing the man she had come to almost admire after watching him for so long. “You don’t have to kill me. It’s just an order and, you know, orders are meant to be broken.”  
His cheeky grin was enough to make Katerina consider his statement. He was right that it was just an order, but he was wrong too. If she failed her mission and went back, she was a dead girl walking. Even if he didn’t kill her, they would. Disobeying orders, walking out of a mission, it would be too much and she would be dead.  
“I do not think these are meant to be.” She answered slowly, wondering if she was already dead. She had told her handlers she would have him dead by one thirty and it was well past two in the morning. Her lack of return might be enough to send them out, to end her life.  
“I think there are places you could go that would be safe if you chose to.” He answered carefully. She could practically feel him weighing out his words so as not to set her off, but she could do little to reassure him. She wasn’t even sure what to do and that was the most terrifying thing of all.  
Taking a careful step back, Katerina watched his reaction. He didn’t attempt to follow her, but he took notice, perking up just a bit. He didn’t look tired, didn’t look worn, even if he had just fought her for almost half an hour before they’d reached their stalemate. He didn’t even seem too upset about the blood that was slowly leaking out of his thigh from the knife wound she’d managed to leave him with. The bruising on his face was becoming more pronounced and she wondered if she looked as battered as he did.  
Even before they had fought, he’d been on a mission, sitting on the roof of a building for almost two days straight before deciding to take the shot. He’d finished, but not without a fight with some security guys, one who had broken his nose. It was taxing to have to take them out, she could see it in his eyes, but Katerina’s fight with him afterward would have been more of a challenge. Even after everything he had been through, he was still cracking jokes and attempting to talk to her. It was like the man she’d seen with Natasha and sent a small bolt of gratitude through Katerina, who was used to being treated like a soulless being. He treated her with the same kindness he showed anyone within his agency and she wasn’t quite sure how to handle that.  
So she did the only thing she could.  
She took the shot.  
It happened in a millisecond, but it felt like minutes as her wrist moved just slightly to the right, enough to miss his head completely and slam into the brick wall behind him. He only realized it as he was releasing, the sharp movement of him changing direction of his arrow the last thing she saw before she was impaled by the thing, the sudden hit sending her flying onto her back with the arrow lodged in her gut.  
For a moment, there was only shock, that he’d missed, that she was still breathing, that he was running at her, saying something she couldn’t understand in that moment.  
Shakily, her hand went up to the wound, pressing just below where the arrow was stuck, and coming away sticky with dark fluid, which she knew to be blood. The copper scent and warm tackiness was enough to clue her in without Clint Barton hovering over her like a guilty child, ripping out a medical kit from god knows where and pressing gauze around the wound.  
“What the hell were you thinking? I almost killed you!” It seemed to pain him, the thought of her death, but she was having trouble deciphering the English he was using as the pain became more and more unbearable. Even she had her limits and getting shot with an arrow was turning out to be one of them.  
“You have five minutes before they arrive to extract me. I suggest you take it.” Her Russian accent slipped through, but the message was clear. He needed to leave, before they found her and realized she failed. She didn’t need to spell it out for him and that was probably a good thing because her brain was muddled and she was starting to drift between consciousness and unconsciousness.  
“They’ll kill you if they find you.” He reminded her, the pain still evident in his voice. Looking up at him, finding those grey eyes drilling into hers, she nodded.  
“Yes, they will.” It was an honest answer and, for once, she wasn’t afraid of that death. She was ready. Death had been stalking her for years, she was just too stupid to see it. After all the things she’d done, after all the lives she’d taken, she deserved whatever hell came after this life. It was time to stop hurting people. Finally, she’d be allowed to rest. Finally, she’d be allowed to end her own eternal torment. Even in death, she was selfish.  
Hawkeye stared at her like she’d just ended her own life, which was what she had intended him to do. He was appalled and more than slightly upset judging by the look on his face. She understood his surprise. She’d seen the Black Widow and knew that a woman like that wouldn’t let herself die so easily. She would have put up as much of a fight as possible, probably wouldn’t have allowed herself to end up bleeding out in some back alley that stunk like cat urine.  
But Katerina wasn’t quite that strong and she was so tired. Not just physically, but emotionally. She knew what the punishment would have been and she wasn’t going to go back and face it again. Her only redemption would be saving the man who was still trying to stifle the bleeding from her wound.  
“It doesn’t have to end this way, you could come with me.” He offered, his voice strained. She just coughed a little, blood bubbling in the back of her throat. He’d been careful, but had still nicked a lung, which would end in her drowning in her own blood, a painful way to go in any sense. But it was one of the ways she’d imagined it would happen. One of the ways the Room would have allowed her to die. “You’ve seen what Nat and I do. We work for the government and the World Council. We choose assignments and get paid to do our jobs on a monthly basis. You’d have a place to live, a bunk, aliases all over the world. You’d fight for a cause.”  
He was trying to sell it, but he didn’t seem to realize that it wouldn’t matter soon. The cold was already seeping in and she was ready. If he would just leave.  
“Three minutes.” She forced out, not wanting to try and hope. It was so hard to dream of a life without pain, without nightmares that were so real she couldn’t escape them. She just wanted him to go and find safety like she knew he could. Now that he knew about those who were hunting him, he could keep himself safe, maybe not hidden away but able to take care of himself in a way he wasn’t before.  
“I can help you. Let me help you.” He was reduced to begging and she gasped as he moved, forcing her into an upright position. Her hiss of pain was ignored, though she didn’t think he meant it that way. He meant it more like he was trying to save her life, the idiotic bastard.  
She struggled to find her footing, deciding quickly that she would not lead to his death. He kept an arm wrapped around her waist, above the arrow that still protruded from her abdomen, his strength being enough to convince her to stand. She grit her teeth and forced the pain and wavering consciousness out of her mind, locking it all away in a metal box at the back of her mind. She was determined suddenly to make sure he didn’t die because of her, something that had been culminating in her for as long as she’d been watching him.  
“How much time do we have?” He asked as they started moving. She steeled herself and started to jog out of the alley, sweat beading on her forehead. The wind threw stray strands of pale blonde hair against the tacky blood on her face and it stuck there, out of her way. Coughing a little again, blood dribbled down her chin, but she didn’t have time to wipe it away, instead just ignoring it as she reached up and pulled the pendant off of her neck, glancing around for a place to dispose of it at.  
Seeing a car moving past the alley, she threw the necklace at it and was satisfied when it caught on the hitch, her own breathing labored as she started stripping off her weapons as fast as she could while trying not to further the damage.  
“What are you doing?!” He sounded concerned, but she just shook her head, doing inventory of the weapons she had that couldn’t have been tracked.  
“My weapons could theoretically be tracked. Can’t keep them.” She murmured, letting him lead her around to a van.  
“Here.” He helped her into the back seat, throwing the med kit he had on him in back with her. Instead of waiting for him to help, instead of waiting for any assistance, she gripped the arrow tightly in one hand, bracing herself against the car door as Hawkeye slid into the front seat and started the van, whipping out of the hiding spot. Gritting her teeth, she ripped the arrow halfway out, the pained grunt catching her target’s attention. “What the hell are you doing?!”  
“Keep driving.” She ordered, ignoring his skepticism. Gripping the shaft of the arrow, which was covered in her blood, she gave another good yank and almost passed out as the arrow slid out of her stomach, splattering the seat around her in red liquid. She felt only slightly bad about the mess as she ripped open a package of gauze and tried to stem the flow, a torrent of curses flowing from her mouth as she poured antiseptic onto the wound.  
Another few packages of gauze and she could practically feel the relief as her mind went into full on shock, leaving her with nothing but black edged vision and the sound of someone yelling at her to stay awake.


	2. Interrogation and a Name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter has some background allusions to rape and violence. you've been warned.

She woke with a panic she hadn’t felt in a long time. Ninety nine percent of the time, the Rooms robbed her of her memories before she could wake, especially of missions failed or that went bad. They rarely left her with enough to fear, with enough to contemplate, but the stark white room around her let her know that she wasn’t in one of the Rooms like she had hoped. The last mission hadn’t been a dream and she wasn’t hidden in her cell in the Post Room. No, she was in an unknown place, where they’d likely try to kill her.   
The door opened and she hid her fear quickly, putting on a stony mask as she was faced with the man who she had saved. The one who had refused to leave her behind and the one who had shot her with his arrow.   
She didn’t let a hand stray to her stomach like she wanted to, instead keeping her gaze focused on Hawkeye, who was as dangerous as he was kind. He could kill her in a moment. This could all be a lie. There was no safe place for someone in her position. There was only one institution bent on controlling her or another and they were never quite different from one another. All they wanted was her skill, the set of skills she’d been forced to learn to survive. No one looked at her ledger and saw that the blood dripping off the pages was almost all hers. No one realized she didn’t volunteer to kill people or take down other organizations. All they saw was the things she’d done.   
“You shouldn’t be moving.” She hadn’t even realized she’d rolled off the medical bed and taken up a defensive crouch, her back to the wall behind her. Another cursory glance showed that she wasn’t just in the medical bay of some place, she was in a holding room with no chance of escape. At least, in their eyes.   
Silence greeted his words because she had nothing left to say. He should have let her bleed out in that alley, it would have been kinder than the fate he had unwittingly subjected her to. She didn’t want to have to run for the rest of her life, she just wanted to be free and death was the only answer she could conceivably see. It wasn’t what she wanted in the end, she wanted to live, to see the things she saw in Hawkeye and Black Widow when they let their walls down and were just themselves, but that wasn’t possible for her. She wasn’t strong enough, she wasn’t like them.   
“You were given twelve stitches on each side. They said you made a bloody mess of the wound and they could have gotten it out with less scarring if you’d left it in. You also wouldn’t have lost so much blood, but I think you knew that. That’s why they sent me in. They think I’ll be able to get you to talk.” Hawkeye, dressed in jeans and a tee shirt that strained over his shoulders in a deep purple, laughed at the assumption like it was ridiculous. He was partially right. She had no intentions of talking to anyone, though she was probably most susceptible to him if she was being honest with herself.   
He moved around the room slowly, letting her see his intentions before he did anything. She could see the guns that rested under his arms and the bruises that covered his face. His gate was easy, collected, and she knew he was used to being around people who could kill him with no more thought than was necessary to breathe. After all, he lived with the Black Widow. However, she was more interested in the fact that he was letting her see his weapons and letting her see his intentions before he did anything, something most people didn’t do in her presence.  
He sat in the chair in the corner, a good view of the room and the door, as well as the two way mirror that was on Katerina’s left. He had optimal viewing of the place, but didn’t seem worried about any of those things that she was worried about. He was more worried about her, and her wound.   
“I’m not here to hurt you, you know that, right?” He asked, his voice taking on a serious, sincere tone as he watched her, for the first time uncertainty lacing his voice. She just blinked at him, knowing the truth. Everyone was out to hurt her. She was on her own in enemy territory and she was pretty sure that the enemy was the ruined remains of SHIELD. Whatever was left was made up of the only loyal servants of the department, only a handful of people.   
She had been on a mission when SHIELD’s helicarriers came crashing down, courtesy of Captain America, who hadn’t taken any prisoners in the end. He was someone she looked up to, someone with clear principles, one of the few people who understood war in the same way she did.   
“SHIELD is meant to protect people. Even people like yourself. You saw what they did for Natasha, they can do that for you too.” She shot him a withering glare at the blatant lie, hating him for even trying to play that one off.   
“SHIELD is in ruins. It does not exist and the people who do within it are more than likely HYDRA agents just waiting to strike. I do not want help from a place like that.” She managed through clenched teeth. In all honesty, she didn’t want help at all, but she wasn’t about to tell him that. She wished she’d died before, when she’d intended, on her terms. What was she going to do with the life he had left her with? Be hunted down? It didn’t sound that appealing, but neither did asking him to kill her when the answer would be a resounding no.   
“There are a few that are still loyal and we are trying to find them. What do you know about the take down of SHIELD?” He asked, suddenly suspicious. So many mood swings for someone who was supposed to be a cold hearted assassin. Katerina felt bad for the Black Widow in that moment, dealing with his ever changing moods.   
“I know that HYDRA has hidden within SHIELD since the beginning, out of sight, waiting for the day when they could rise to power again. I know that HYDRA is always recruiting, usually young, idealistic children who are more susceptible to their view of the world, but they are not above brainwashing their followers. SHIELD should beware.” She informed him, thinking of a specific case she wouldn’t mention. No one needed to know just how intimately she knew HYDRA’s plans.   
“How do you know all of that?” He asked, sounding on guard suddenly, as if he hadn’t thought she could be involved in something like that.   
“SHIELD was not the only place HYDRA made a playground of. Their technology ended up in the hands of the Rooms. Every agent of the Rooms knew of HYDRA long before they came out.” She didn’t mention that she had been on the receiving ends of some of their treatments, instead waiting for Hawkeye to come to a decision.   
“I was instructed to ask you a lot of questions, but the first one I want to ask, the one I want an answer to, is this. Do you want to live?” Staring each other straight in the eye, his storm grey hitting her pale blue, she thought, really thought about this question in a way she had been avoiding for so long. Did she want to live in a world that had only managed to hurt her? Did she want to continue this existence that tortured her beyond measure? Did she want to find out if there was more to life than killing and beatings?   
“If I never am to return to the Post Room, then yes, I want to live.” It was a simple answer. She had fought with everything she had to survive their tortures and here she was, given a way to change. Maybe it wasn’t what she’d had in mind in her day dreams about being free, but it was better than what she’d been through.   
Hell, instead of torturing her for answers, as she knew they could, they’d patched her up and set her broken bones, which were currently in casts. She figured they’d re-broken them at some point, but couldn’t pull up a memory. The only explanation for that was drugs, but there was no discomfort pointing to any unwanted sexual activity and there was no sign of surgery for more than just fixing the damage that was already there. Just signs of broken bones put back into their rightful places and her wounds stitched together firmly.   
“Good. Next question, can you be loyal to SHIELD?” He was watching her carefully and she knew that the Widow couldn’t be far away. She was more than likely on the other side of the glass, which meant she couldn’t lie. Loyalty wasn’t something she was known for. She did whatever she had to to survive and that occasionally meant killing partners she’d worked with before. Loyalty wasn’t a foreign concept, but it was hard to come by in her line of work.   
“The enemy of my enemy is my friend. I will never be loyal to HYDRA.” She answered, which seemed to be enough for the Hawk.   
“Alright. Close enough. What’s your name?” Such a simple question, yet it sent Katerina into a near existential crisis. Her breathing quickened and she suddenly didn’t want to answer his questions anymore. She wanted to back away slowly, leave the conversation behind, and never look back.   
So instead of answering, she stuck out her left arm, the one that wasn’t in a cast, and let him see the inside of her wrist, where a barcode and a series of numbers were branded into her skin. That was her name. It was who she was. She was the code against her pulse, the only thing she knew with certainty.   
The Hawk stared at it for a moment, in shock probably, before the door opened and in strode the infamous Black Widow, her red curls pulled back into a ponytail and her green eyes taking in the code like she was simply seeing a name written there. She was wearing jeans and a black leather jacket over a white button up shirt, black ankle boots on her feet. She was armed, Katerina could see that much, but she wasn’t about to pull out a weapon anytime soon either.   
“We need a name for our records. Pick an alias.” The Widow ordered, her tone brooking no arguments. Biting into her lip, Katerina took a moment, spacing out and starting to remake herself again, one piece at a time, until she came up with a memory she hadn’t ever forgotten, one that stuck with her.   
A man, no older than mid twenties, had been thrown into a cell with her one day. They had been in solitary, her beaten until she couldn’t move and him not far behind. Whatever they had wanted, he had given them, and she was his reward. It was a lewd system, but she was used to it, had even been stripped down to her underwear before being shoved to the floor like an animal before him, the guards informing them that he had an hour with her to do what he wanted.   
He’d just lain there at first, as weary as she was, before he’d moved to get up. Her responding flinch was a downfall, but he hadn’t even reached out to touch her. He just pulled off the first layer he was wearing, a plaid button up over a white tee shirt that was stained copper with his blood. Then he’d laid the shirt over her, covering her mostly naked body with his own shirt.   
They’d stayed on the floor for the entire hour, neither of them moving, while he talked to her, his voice lulling her into a sense of security she’d never felt before. He had little in the way of memories, they had wiped him before they’d been thrown in together, but he knew his name started with a B and he told her no one had the right to use her body against her will. He’d been kind to her, even though she’d done nothing to deserve it. At fourteen, she’d had no idea how to talk to him, how to react to genuine kindness from another person.   
All he’d asked in return was her name, which she had given him. He hadn’t approved and had then renamed her Katya, a name that rose to her conscious mind and stuck.   
“Katya. Katya is my name.” She finally answered the woman before her. It was an intimate version of the name Katerina, reminiscent of the woman before her, but she ignored the similarities and waited while the Widow watched her, her eyes taking in every little movement Katya made.   
“Last name?” Tougher. It was harder to find something that fit. She had no last name to go with Katerina, it was simply the name she was given in the lab. But that man, the one with no name, had said his started with a B and she’d seen a file one day, one with names that started with Bs. Thinking quickly, she extracted the information from her mind, coming up with something that sounded old fashioned and American, as opposed to the name she had chosen.   
“Barnes. Katya Barnes.” She announced. This had both of them staring at her, like she had suggested something ridiculous, but they couldn’t know who she had named herself after, the man with no name who was a menace in his lost state. They couldn’t know about the myth, the legend that she had encountered. Because to them, he was just that. A myth.   
“Alright. Age?” The Widow asked, which would be easy to lie about. The older she claimed she was, the more they would believe her testimony. Or the more they would question her allegiances. She was better off going with her real age because, should they ever find out, they would figure her a liar. And she couldn’t afford to make them her enemies after turning her back on her own organization.   
“Nineteen. I think.” She added that on as an afterthought, wondering how old she really was. When she was four, she’d been told it was her fourth winter, so she’d gone with that age, never questioning it. As far as she knew, she could be anywhere from seventeen to twenty two.   
“Birthday?” The Widow had to know that that wasn’t an option. She didn’t even know how old she was, how was she supposed to know her birthday? “Just pick one. We need it for a file.”   
“January First.” She answered after a moment. A new year, a fresh start, it was an appealing thought. And it was inconspicuous. The Rooms wouldn’t think her sentimental enough to choose a date that would stand out. They wouldn’t look for a holiday or a notable date, so it would work for her purposes. Plus, it was easy to remember.   
“I need to know which Room you come from.” The Widow informed her, which had Katya tensing, her body tightening like a bow string ready to snap. She glanced at the door out, wondering if it was too late to make a run for it. She could kill everyone in her path, she’d done such things before. She didn’t want to kill the people in the room with her, but she could knock them unconscious and be gone in seconds. “It’s so I know what you have been through and what to expect of the training you received.”  
This calmed her marginally, the cold logic of the statement letting her slump a little in her crouch, which was beginning to become painful. She pushed the pain back behind the lingering hum of pain killers and focused on the problem at hand.   
How much could she trust them with?  
“The Post Room.”


	3. Nothing She Can't Handle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now it's time to see what Katya is all about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter. Sorry I'm so late. I got sick and have been feeling miserable. Enjoy and let me know what you think!

Two days of questioning and they had yet to let her out of the cell they’d thrown her in originally. Meals were delivered three times a day, wholesome food that she picked at and only ate when she was on the verge of passing out. The Hawk, who insisted she call him Clint, rarely left her room, always joking around and trying to get her to loosen up while The Widow asked question after question, gauging her reactions and cataloging whatever data she came up with. Katya had become unconcerned with her indirect line of questioning after the first few hours, realizing she was trying to extract other data as well with her well-aimed questions.  
Katya was becoming tired of their games. Clint said they could help and they weren’t doing much of anything accept keeping her prisoner and boring her to death. It was when she woke up to the sound of an alarm that she was on full alert and realized they couldn’t keep her safe enough to not get her killed.   
Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she was on her feet in less than a second, one of the chairs the assassins used during their daily questionnaires in her hands. She swung it around and slammed the uncomfortable metal contraption into the two way mirror, shattering the mirror on impact. She ignored the sting of new cuts forming as the glass exploded around her and vaulted the low wall before the guards outside had a chance to grab their weapons to retaliate.  
She landed in a low crouch, the surgical scrubs they’d given her to wear perfect for her purposes as she launched herself at one of the guards, her elbow hitting him in the face instantly. He was down for the count before the others could brace themselves as she grabbed the gun right out of his hands, stripping him of his belt as she shot both the other guards with his tranquilizer gun, knowing it wouldn’t show kindly on her if she killed them like her instincts screamed for her to.   
Fitting the belt around her waist, she found it too big, but cinched it shut, scowling as she realized they didn’t have her weapons lying around for her to use. Pulling a real gun from the weapon’s belt, she started out of the surveillance room and into the hall, finding SHIELD agents running all over the place, some barking orders into headsets while others were just running, trying to find the source of the break in.   
Shrugging her shoulders delicately, Katya moved back into the room and took an ear piece out of one of the guard’s ears, wiping it on his shirt sleeve before sticking it in her own ear. They were custom made to fit, but she could hear the orders and figured out where she wanted to be from the coordinates someone higher up was listing off.   
Turning in that direction, she took off, ignoring the wrap on her ankle, which was taking care of a particularly gruesome broken bone that they’d had to pin back together. It had healed all wrong and the re-breaking process was something Clint still talked about two days later with awe. It was painful to run, but she ignored all the pain, gun in hand, as she made her way to the break-in point.   
“Prisoner 52216125 has escaped. Do not engage. I repeat, do not engage. She is armed and extremely dangerous.” Oh, that was just peachy. They let everyone know she was out and she’d have to fight more than a few brave idiots before she made it to her destination. Sighing a little in defeat, she exchanged her real gun for one of their stun guns, her left hand being her dominant hand, thank goodness. She managed to clasp a knife in her right hand, even with the blasted cast in place.   
She saw someone coming at her from one of the windows ahead, he was going to attack from behind, but she turned and deftly took the shot, not sighting him from that direction at all. He went down and she shot the one behind him too, not feeling the least bit bad about it. Turning back towards the front, she found her way mostly clear, with a few lab techs running in the other direction.   
She wondered briefly what had them so scared, what could make them run away, but it didn’t matter at that point. Whatever it was, it was coming whether she was worried or not, so she might as well meet it on her own terms. Fear was an afterthought as she ran towards the sound of gun shots.   
Keeping up the pace, she made it to the room indicated through her earpiece in no time. There was a huge hole in the wall across from the doorway and Clint and the Widow were fighting alongside two other agents of SHIELD, clearly labelled by the vests on their chests. One was a small woman who was taking out people almost as fast as the Widow herself and the other was a tall man with dark hair that all three were watching warily from the corner of their eyes, as though he might turn around and attack them as well.   
Putting up her gun, she steadied it on her cast, sighting the men fighting Clint first. He was in Hawk mode, firing arrows left and right as well as using hand to hand when needed. She took three shots in quick succession and dropped all the men who were close enough to hit him. She didn’t pause as he glanced her direction, turning her attentions to the small Asian woman who was fighting a few feet away from the Widow. Sighting her opponents, she took out two before someone grabbed her from behind, by her hair.   
Grunting, she swung around and elbowed the man in the face, not surprised to find that it was a SHIELD agent who held her. He was weak and she immediately pinpointed him as HYDRA and not SHIELD, even though the SHIELD emblem was stamped across his chest in bold letters.   
Spinning around in a circle, she used her momentum to kick up and slam her heel into the back of his neck. The disorientation was enough for her to turn around and shoot him point blank, blood splattering her clothing and cheek as she kept spinning, throwing the gun to the side and grabbing another from the belt. Orders were blaring in her ear, orders she didn’t care about, so she ripped out the device and threw it away, sighting someone sneaking up on the Widow and taking the shot without blinking an eye. The woman went down instantly, leaving Katya to throw herself into the mess that had been created as though she belonged in their team. In their agency.   
Jumping over bodies proved painful when coupled with her broken bones, but it was manageable as she launched herself off the closest body like it was a trampoline, connecting with a solid man seconds later, one who had been about to attack the last fighter in the SHIELD arsenal.   
She piggy backed him, slamming the butt of her gun into the back of his head and clubbing him across the face with her cast all in the same move. The cast miraculously broke as he fell, her jumping off to receive a nod of thanks from the guy, who had a busted lip and a bruise that was already tinging black across half his face. He was practically dripping with sweat, his brown eyes flicking back to the attack before he looked her over one last time.   
She nodded back, peeling the remaining parts of the cast off before flexing her hand out a little bit. She had clear stitches along her wrist from where they’d probably pinned that bone as well, but it didn’t bother her. Especially considering she could still move her hand with less pain than she’d braced herself for. Reaching down, she pulled out another gun, this one probably a stun gun, before turning to face the hole in the wall where men and women were still pouring into the building.   
“How many more are there?” She asked the man next to her, who seemed surprised by her voice. She ignored the look he shot her before he glanced at the small woman on his other side.   
“Don’t know. There were three dozen that broke in at various points.” He informed her.  
“They have people on the inside.” She announced as she switched positions, spinning to face the doorway she’d come in from, her guns raised steady.   
“What?” The small woman asked, her voice sharp and commanding.  
“How many?” Clint asked at the exact same time. His voice was clearer and more pronounced, so she glanced at him from the corner of her eye, seeing that he was still suffering from that same broken nose, though it was bleeding again. He also had a cut above his eye that was gushing blood down his face, not that he seemed to notice or care.   
“Don’t know. Already took out one.” She motioned to the body with the SHIELD logo on it before tensing at the sound of uniform footsteps coming down the hall.   
“How do we know she’s not HYDRA?” The small woman asked, her face stony and empty. It was a good cold mask, but Katya saw the minute traces of anger and distrust, which made her like the little woman. She knew not to trust anyone and that was a good thing in Katya’s book.   
“HYDRA is the last thing she’d be.” To Katya’s surprise, it was the Widow who had spoken, her gun going off a second later as more HYDRA agents tumbled through the opening in the wall. Clint spun in that same moment to face the same way as Katya, though she doubted he’d be able to tell HYDRA from SHIELD. He knew them as fellow agents, not as something as nefarious as an underground organization bent on taking over the world.   
“You got my back?” The man next to her asked, taking another shot. Katya was shocked he’d trusted her with that, but nodded slightly, letting a bullet fly as a warning to the HYDRA and SHIELD agents coming to them.   
“You got mine?” She asked back, seeing as it was only polite. His grin that broke out was enough answer for her and they went about their business almost like partners, him moving to press his much larger back against her smaller one, shielding her and keeping her out of sight in case she was needed. Smart.   
The siege started at around the same time, SHIELD agents mixed with HYDRA. Clint wasn’t taking any shots while Katya was sighting them easily enough. They were the ones that were shooting at their group while the SHIELD agents were shooting behind them at the HYDRA agents. It was only when one of the dumber HYDRA agents took a shot at a blonde agent in front of him that Clint got into the fray, shooting that one and then figuring out who was who after he finally decided that the people coming into the room weren’t all on their side.   
Katya shot off enough that she was out with one weapon and low with the other, her hands automatically searching for extra clips. “Who the hell doesn’t pack extra clips in their utility belts? Are HYDRA agents really that moronic?”   
She hadn’t meant to yell it, but the man behind her elbowed her back gently to get her attention as Clint shot her an amused look, even as he took another shot, his arrow slicing through a HYDRA agent right before he took the kill shot of the blonde who had been shot in the shoulder before.   
“Back left on my belt.” The man behind her informed her and she automatically reached out and found what she was looking for, barely touching the man himself as she took four clips, slipping two in her belt and sliding the other two into her weapons as Clint covered her so she could change clips.   
Soon, she was back into the fray, gun shots echoing in her ears and pain sliding through her body from old injuries. She hadn’t managed to get hit yet, but she figured it was only a matter of time until someone got the best of her. Soon, the blonde agent who had been hurt before was by her side, determination etched on her face. She didn’t even question Katya’s loyalties, just nodded stoically and kept shooting, only this time she was shooting at her own agents.   
“This is getting old real quick. What’s the plan?” The man behind Katya asked, his voice raising over the din. Katya listened carefully for someone to respond, knowing it wasn’t her place to give a theory. She couldn’t say what to do anyway. Their facility wasn’t safe anymore, that was for sure, so evac was in order. That didn’t mean those with SHIELD agreed. Besides, she was sure there was information that needed to be destroyed before they all left. Not only that, but there were scientists that weren’t field cleared and she was sure there were others on base that would need help escaping if HYDRA was within the facility to the extent she suspected.   
“May, Carter, you stay here with Cortez and Carter. Hold them off on that side. Ward, Katya, you’re with Clint and I. We’re the evac team.” The Widow’s voice called and the man behind Katya traded places with the woman to her left, keeping up a steady flow of bullets.   
“Katya, you okay to fight?” Clint worried too much. That was what Katya was learning.   
“It’s just a few broken bones, Hawk. Nothing I can’t handle.” She informed him in good humor, ignoring the slice of pain along her thigh as a bullet slid past her and slammed into the wall a few feet away. Hot blood splattered a little, coloring the pale blue of her scrubs, but the only one who noticed was the man next to her, who must have been Ward.   
“She’s trained for this, Barton.” The Widow started moving forward as she spoke those words, not fazed by the bullets being shot in her direction. Katya followed her lead, wondering if they would make it to wherever she wanted to be. And also wondering how far she’d get if she attempted to escape…


End file.
